


overfloweth my cup

by Etherea



Series: Multiship Kinktober 2020 [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: If You Squint - Freeform, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:06:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etherea/pseuds/Etherea
Summary: Kinktober Day 1: Handjob
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Multiship Kinktober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947865
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	overfloweth my cup

**Author's Note:**

> Ship: Geraskier  
> Written: 11:00pm October 1  
> Author: Sleepy  
> Elaboration on the dubcon in the end notes.

Jaskier found, in general, that the quality of an event's entertainment declined _significantly_ after his performance had ended. To compensate, he drank. 

It was during his...third?...glass of a deliciously unpronounceable and unctuous red varietal that, in response to _yet another_ flat note, he gesticulated wildly and splashed wine on both himself and his neighbour, Geralt.

"Fuck, sorry Geralt, Here, let me." He plucked his napkin from his setting and dabbed at the stains, ineffectual in both technique and aim. Geralt snatched the cloth away with a growl and took over.

"Oh there's no need to look at me like that, you great pillock. If anyone's to blame it's that bloody bodhran player, can't keep a beat to save his life!" Jaskier opined at length about each other musician contributing to the current cacophony, trying not think about the firm press of Geralt's hand upon his thigh, his inner thigh, extremely close to the you-know-whats. Finally, blessedly, the little touches stopped.

Then came an odd tugging sensation.

As surreptitiously as was possible under the circumstances, Jaskier glanced down at his lap. The napkin obscured his view somewhat, but if forced to draw a conclusion about what was going on under the crisp white linen, he'd have been able to make a fair guess.

Geralt's fingers were too big to easily undo the buttons on these breeches. He managed, somehow, and with his non-dominant hand too, bloody well done, to open a few and slip his hand inside.

The thing was, the thing wa _s,_ was that pants were cut extremely close this season. Fashion is a fickle mistress; one must accede to her whims if one wishes to keep up. Her whims, in this case, included not wearing smallclothes, lest they ruin the lines of the drop-front trews. So Geralt immediately had a handful of Jaskier's cock, which was presumably what he was after. Jaskier prattled on to passers-by and tablemates who barely listened. Keeping up appearances, or keeping himself distracted? Well, a bit of both, probably, he reflected. It certainly wouldn't do to think about the work-roughened fingers nudging his foreskin back and forth, sliding more easily with each pass as his arousal grew. His music critique sputtered and ended when a particularly tight stroke had him grasping the fish fork with white knuckles. The awkward angle only served to heighten the sensations; frustrating gaps in pressure had him leaning forward, face schooled to neutrality but body giving the game away. Had it been seconds or minutes of quick, relentless stroking? Was the terrible band still playing the same dreadful song? Was his inability to identify chords due to sexual bliss, or were they really just that shit?

He was going to cum. He was going to cum in his pants like a teenager, here at the table, in front of some very wealthy people, wanked off by Geralt The Supremely Indelicate, As It Turns Out, Of Rivia, and he was going to have to spill an entire bottle of extremely nice wine on his pants to avoid everyone identifying the wet patch as a cumstain.

Well. Fortunately those witcher reflexes turned out to be good at something aside from stabbing. With a complicated-feeling twist, Geralt grabbed the napkin and had it in place to catch the mess. Jaskier hoped some of the strangled noises he was making conveyed his thanks for that kind gesture.

At length, Geralt's hand withdrew.

"I'm going to _kill you_ for that," muttered Jaskier when he once again had command of his tongue. Geralt The Absolute Bastard Of Rivia just smiled, and _raised_ a _napkin was it that napkin oh gods it was_ he raised a _napkin_ to his _face_ and it probably looked to everyone else like he was tidying his nice witchery face but he wasn't he was _tasting_ what he'd _frisked out not moments ago from his best pal's nethers._

Jaskier's brain gave up and poured itself another drink. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The Darkness' ['Wanker'](https://youtu.be/HFhXYs4tD58).
> 
> Prompts taken from whichever list catches my eye when I have time to write.
> 
> Past ships are not a guarantee of future ships. This may get weird. 
> 
> Geralt masturbates Jaskier under the table, unseen, at a public event. No discussion of consent takes place but readers can safely assume that safewords have been negotiated beforehand.


End file.
